I'm going nuts.

I'm postponing doing my assignment in class. I don't know why! I just got a perfect score on the last essay that I turned in and now I'm nervous with a capital "N" about turning anything else in. What if I'm not as perfect? What if they expect too much from me now?

Oy vey! I need to sit for a minute. And update my blog. Yea, that's more important than finishing my essay.

Let's change the subject.

I went to lunch with Annie yesterday. I told her I was coming to lunchd with her and she looked at me and asked me "why?" I told her it would be so much fun and that I would sit next to her and that she and I would have lunch together, yippie! She had this strange look on her face and said "but I sit next to kids, not moms." I, of course, said, "Well, you've never had a mom sit next to you at school. It will be so much fun. Oh, and we'll both get a hot lunch!" That's when her head exploded. She couldn't believe that she was going to finally get one of those amazing hot lunches with the sporks and the napkins and the flimsy styrofoam trays. She was so excited about the hot lunch that when I came to take her to lunch, she said we had to go to the end of the line, because that's where the people with hot lunches go. So I got in at the end of the line and I was quiet and good on the way to the cafeteria.

We got in line for the coveted hot lunch and she was able to put in her number (every kid has a number - I don't know why? It's probably socialist in nature and completely against my religion. But she wanted to punch in that number! Punch away baby.) I paid for her lunch and my slice of pizza and a churro (along with orange wedges and a big cup of water).

While I was paying, she was finding us a seat. Or so I thought. Nope. She just sat down next to her friends. I asked her if she wanted to sit in a different spot so Mommy could sit next to her. "No, mommy. I sit here." The lunch ladies were nice enough to scooch everyone down so I could sit next to my girl.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. Annie loved it. She wanted to marry her pizza. She loved the orange wedges and the squishy-ness of the juice. She loved the milk (not chocolate for my little girl) and the little straw that came in the packet with the amazing spork and napkin. She loved it so much that she didn't eat half her pizza and ended up spilling half her milk on her jeans.

I think she was a little overwhelmed.

I told her that she could buy lunch every once in a while, but most days she will have to live with her mother's gourmet turkey meatballs, or homemade macaroni and cheese or (for shame) a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on homemade bread. I always pack a whole-wheat infused banana muffin or some kind of oatmeal-y cake. She has direct access to grape tomatoes (her FAVORITE) and apple wedges with a little lemon juice so they don't look nasty. She said she could manage having cold lunches, as long as she knew that hot pizza was in her future.

She won't get how lucky she is until she starts making lunches for her kid.